The Siren's Song
by juungi
Summary: Sometimes it takes death to discover the beauty of life. Izaya x OC
1. she draws them in effortlessly

**Author's Note:** Takes place during the anime storyline, after Namie becomes Izaya's secretary but before the end of the series when Masaomi visits Saki in the hospital. This will be a relatively short story, about three chapters long. Trying to experiment with shorter stories since I have the uncanny ability to make my other ones stretch on for a seemingly endless period of time, and I wanted to be able to finish something. /rambling

Hope you enjoy.

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><p><strong>chapter one ; she draws them in effortlessly before the kill<strong>

It is not exactly by choice or by habit that he chances by the hospital – an infrequent visit to Saki is all it is supposed to be. And he is in the middle of leaving, anyways. At least he is supposed to be. Maybe because of his morbid sense of curiosity and his hobby of observation, he decides to wander a little. Meandering through the halls of white-coated doctors and nurses, the smell of sterility is strangely sickening. He can understand the resentment many feel toward being in such a place. The faces might be smiling but there is no happiness.

And he is beginning to bore of this little visit of his, when he discovers the stairs leading up to the rooftop. It is a split-second decision that he never expects to bring any fruition to his efforts in finding something to entertain himself with. Yet as he reaches the top and steps out into the wind, he is satisfied to discover another person.

Although all he can see is her back, and she seems to be standing by the edge, grasping the rails with those trembling hands of hers. He has seen this sight a million times before, someone standing on the brink of deciding whether or not to jump. It excites him. And at first, all he does is wait in anticipation. Will she have the courage or will she falter?

Yet the longer he waits, the more he begins to understand that she is not making the decision at all. She just remains there in limbo, waiting for something – a sign, perhaps, to tell her what it is that she should do.

As is the very nature of Izaya Orihara, he strolls up behind her and offers some ill-intended advice, "If you're going to jump, it's better to just close your eyes and lean forward. Get it over with." Although it sounds cruel, he offers her a smile, as a polite buffer to those word.

The girl greets him with two stony-gray eyes. "Jumping?" she wonders out loud in a soprano voice. "Ah, you thought I was going to...? No, no – I was bird watching."

"Watching birds while standing on the railing? Balancing yourself precariously?" he prompts her for some honesty. Although, as Izaya reasons inwardly, some of the people in the hospital are not entirely _there_ in the head. And this could be one of them.

"I wouldn't jump," she responds to him. Not in a terse way, but in a strangely dreamy, wistful sort of way. She is certainly an oddity. "Unless, maybe, there was someone to catch me. Then I wouldn't mind."

Definitely one of those with a few screws loose, but that does not mean he cannot enjoy himself. "And why wouldn't you jump?" He eyes her curiously, that voice of his taking on a cunning, persuasive undertone. It almost seems that, by asking the question, he is going to convince her to change her mind – to decide that she wants to jump, after all.

"There's no reason for me not to," she admits, "But I don't see any reason for me to do so, either."

"Being in this hospital isn't reason enough?" It is less of a question than a statement, because Izaya understands the minds of those cooped up like birds in a cage. They seek freedom, even if it means death. And he suspects that, though a little off her rocker, this girl is no different.

But she just smiles and shakes her head. "Nope,that's a terrible reason. Not that I am here by choice, but there is a good reason for me being here. Although I probably shouldn't be telling a stranger like this, I'm pretty sly."

He suspects otherwise. She seems too clumsy to have any manner of cunning. "Hm? What is likable about a hospital? The rules, the food, the check-ups, blood-drawing, iv-drips..." His voice trails off as he looks to her for any indication of faltering in her belief that hospitals have any merit beyond a practical one.

"Yeah, I don't like any of those." She sighs. "It probably isn't something that you would be able to understand... You're not a patient, are you? So are you here visiting someone then? Your mom? Your sister? Your girlfriend?"

"Hm? Why couldn't it be my brother? Or my father? Or my-"

"I... I really don't think you have a boyfriend...?"

"...my son."

Her face flushes in embarrassment. "U-uh... So you are visiting your child..."

Izaya smirks wryly. "I never said anything like that~ you were wrong on all accounts."

Confused as to what he means, the girl assumes, "So then if it's none of those, who are you visiting? A friend?" Her face twists into a quizzical expression as she peers over at him with some measure of apprehension, as though she is starting to think that _he_ is the one with a few screws loose.

"Hm. That's not quite it either..."

"You're not here just to ogle the nurses in uniform, are you? Or maybe you have a thing for hospital gowns?"

Ignoring the question, as he deems it a stupid one to begin with, Izaya steps up to the railing and leans over to peer down at the people below. From so far above, they look like ants. "You're not really bird watching." He says it like he knows. And he probably does.

"No, maybe I'm not. People watching, I guess? They could be birds, seeing them from way up here." She sighs to herself as she looks down with him and outstretches one of her hands, extending her thumb and twisting it as though she is squishing something mid-air. "Don't they look a bit like little bugs? It makes you feel powerful. Like a god, right?"

As he had expected – although in a roundabout way, she is just as predictable as the others. "So you're watching people from above to feel a sense of power over them because you're physically at a higher height than they are? You think that by doing this, you're above them? That you are better than they are?"

"Hm. Is my thought process that complicated?" Even she does not seem to know. "I just came up here because I wanted some fresh air. It was suffocating in that room with all those people. When visiting hours are over, I'll go back down."

"Avoiding your doting family?"

It almost sounds like he is fishing for information about her to satiate his curiosity, but the girl seems to understand his game. And so, as though she wishes to be the one with the power, she strings him along without ever really answering for certain. "Or maybe I was here because I wanted to jump, after all?" She grins as she peers over at him, offering little more than a shrug. "Then again, maybe I came up here without knowing at all. Isn't that true human nature? To act in ways that are predictable with thought processes too complicated to decode?"

His brows lift as he leans toward her, his eyes studying hers. "Oh? Interesting." And it is not often, certainly not in such an abrupt situation like this, that he deems anything worthy of his attention. Yet there is something about her that he deems to be insightful.

"Well, enough with the philosophical banter – I should be getting back before they go searching for me. Not much longer until visiting hours are over, right? If I'm lucky, maybe they will have already cleared out by then."

And yet he still does not know why she seems to like the hospital, despite her aversion to the needles and every other unfortunate accompaniment to them. So, while she is eager to leave, Izaya is eager to know _more_. "Izaya Orihara," he says, finally introducing himself.

The girl slowly steps away from the railing, but pauses before she turns toward the door. Those gray eyes of hers stare him down, her brown hair billowing in the wind that sweeps across the rooftop. "That's your name, huh? I'll be sure to remember it." She smiles at him.

"And yours?" he prompts.

"I get bored here a lot. If you come to the hospital again, come back to the rooftop. If I'm here, I'll tell you my name."

It is an indirect way of her commanding him to visit again. And while he does not expect her to be sly, Izaya supposes that, perhaps, she is not as innocent and naïve as she comes across. Maybe she is a mischievous little thing after all. Judging by her appearance, she probably isn't much younger than he is. Barely out of high school, he assumes.

The door slams in the distance as she leaves from the rooftop. After casting a final glance down at the people bustling below, Izaya finally deems it time for him to leave. He stuffs his hands into the pockets of his fur-lined jacket and heads toward the door. And just maybe this won't be his last visit to the hospital this week.

Because, although he does not come here by choice or by habit, now there is something interesting enough to garner his attention and change that. Maybe in the future, he will be coming by choice, compelled by curiosity and boredom to discover the secrets of that girl, who remains as an enigma of mystery to him.

When he returns to his office, it is late in the day. Namie is taking a break from her secretarial duties to enjoy a steaming cup of coffee. And either it is extremely bitter, or _she_ is bitter upon seeing him, because her face scrunches up in a look of disgust.

"Ah, what's that for, Namie-san~?" he questions her with a sly, lopsided smirk.

After she composes herself, she sets the mug down on the coffee table and glares at him. "You didn't remember that someone was coming earlier? You missed the appointment and I had to entertain your 'guest.' If I ever have to do that again..."

It is not often that anything ever skips his mind, but Izaya supposes that he was too enamored with the strange girl whose answers proved to be little more than a run-around game. Still, he is not about to offer Namie an apology. Instead, he plops himself down on the couch adjacent from where she is standing, and he smiles up at her. "That aside, Namie-san, what do you think of hospitals and their patients?"

She quirks a brow at him. Is this another trick question? "Why are you asking me something like that?" But it is pointless in questioning Izaya, who will just turn it right back around on her. So before he answers, she has already given up. "What is there to think about them? They exist to treat the sick and the injured, which are the patients."

"Ah, yes, but aren't patients strangely predictable?"

For a moment, she ponders this question and gives a slow nod. "I suppose, given that they usually all have something in common, they could be considered predictable. At least by your standards. But–"

"But there are exceptions? Is that what you were going to say, Namie-san?" And by predicting that, he seems to discredit the possibility that anyone is beyond his calculations. Yet even Izaya Orihara is aware that there are those out there worthy of his interest. People who do not allow themselves to be ruled by conventional human nature, who defy the norms and challenge him for a better understanding.

And while he has not quite classified the girl from earlier as one of these, the fact that she could possibly prove to be one of those aforementioned people is enough to leave him anticipating their next meeting. Yet time and coincidence are unpredictable things, and despite Izaya's intention to meet her again just a few days later, the rooftop proves to be devoid of any other people. And while it chagrins him to be forced to do so, he loiters for a while. When she does not show up, he goes wandering through the halls, but no matter where he goes, he sees not even so much as a glimpse of her.

Izaya Orihara is not the type of person to make ill-use of time, and so he only wastes one day aimlessly wandering. By the next day, he has preoccupied himself with his hobby – an arrangement with Celty for the delivery of a girl he has been communicating with through suicide chat rooms for some time. And while it is supposed to prove entertaining for him, it is largely disappointing because she proves as predictable as every other he has done this same routine with.

A couple days pass into a week, and given nothing better to do, he winds up visiting Saki again. It is short-lived as he confirms that Masaomi still has not found the courage to step into her room and see her. Izaya tires of the visit quickly and makes haste to leave. And it is as he is leaving that he swings by – unintentionally, perhaps – the staircase leading up to the rooftop. No one seems to be lingering near it and he hasn't the patience to wander up and loiter any longer. So he turns to leave.

"Orihara-kun," someone calls out from behind him.

He turns, recognizing that voice despite having only heard it once. "Oh ya?"

The girl with gray eyes waves at him as she approaches, still wearing the hospital gown that she was clad in the last time he saw her. A week seems not to have made a difference, neither in her complexion nor in her condition – since she is apparently still hospitalized. "So even though you have an odd name, I guess you gave me your real one, huh? Or you wouldn't have responded to it."

An odd question to ask. "You thought it was an alias," he surmises.

"Well, more like a pen name or maybe a user name online. Something like that?" She shakes her head, her long, flowing hair bouncing around her shoulders. Then the girl motions towards the stairs and takes the first step. "If you have time, come with me to the rooftop."

Although he knows well enough to see that he is being strung along by her, Izaya does not contest it. He follows after he because the desire to know is stronger than his pride or ego, which will ultimately swell, anyways, when he finds out the answers that he has been seeking.

It is cold again on the rooftop with the wind whipping about. The girl does not seem bothered by it. She heads straight for the railing, to peer down at the unsuspecting people below – patients and visitors alike. "Since you came, I owe you my name this time, don't I?"

"A real name," he clarifies with a grin, half-suspecting she will try to give him an alias – since she suspected that's what he had done.

"Ah, you caught me. Well, then, you can call me Megumi." Strangely, the name seems to fit her. "My surname, hm... How about Takano? I like the sound of that. Yeah... I want to be Megumi Takano." And even though he had intended for her real name, it doesn't seem like she is willing to offer it.

"Hm, don't want to give away your name?"

"Ah – Megumi is my real name. But what is the importance of a name, anyways? You could call me by the color of my hair and it wouldn't matter. Isn't it kind of weird how people put such value in something so insignificant?" She frowns to herself. "I'm like that, too."

"It's human nature." Although it interests him to see someone conscious of the hypocrisy of man.

A small sigh escapes her lips as she leans her chin down against the cold steel rail. "Down there are a lot of couples. I see them sometimes, when I go to the courtyard – not often, you know. But they walk hand-in-hand a lot."

He watches the expression on her face, wistful and lamenting. For as much as she tries to hide about herself, Izaya is gradually starting to understand what lies behind that facade she is giving him. "You feel envious watching them," he guesses easily, "You wish you could be one of them... Don't you?"

The fact that he is able to read her fairly easily startles Megumi as she jerks upright, frowning as she averts her eyes. "Envious? I don't know if that's the word. If I could be one of them, would I be happy? I don't know that, either."

"That's just an excuse."

"Yeah. It is." Megumi steps away from the railing and plops down on the ground. Her cheeks are flushed red from the cold and goosebumps seem to cover her arms as she tries furiously to rub the chill away from her skin.

Izaya is not the kind of gentleman to offer his coat so he ignores her actions. He is not unused to being around women who try to use such behavior to elicit sympathy, but he feels little sympathy for those who cannot be independent themselves. Nor is he so easily susceptible to such simple seduction. "So then, Megumi-chan," he calls her familiarly, "What is it that so bothers you? There is something that doesn't satisfy you about family clamoring around your bedside. That's why you escaped from them last time. But you feel resentful of the couples when you watch them together. You're lonely, aren't you?"

His incessant questions do not seem to bother her, even as he leans down toward her. The fur of his coat tickles against her cheek as he settles down beside her. Megumi shivers under the feel of it as she continues rubbing at her arms, creating some warmth as she huddles her knees against her chest.

"I do feel lonely," she tells Izaya honestly. "Is there a person in a hospital that doesn't feel lonely?"

"Then why not jump?" The same question he asked last time, when she told him that she had something worth keeping her here at the hospital. And he still itches to know what that is, because it is quite clearly not her family, no matter how loving they appear to be. He suppose that it could be for the purpose of treatment, because she is anxious to leave. Yet there is an underlying belief that he has that there is something more to it than that.

Megumi is sighing again. "The world wouldn't stop turning just because I jumped. People would keep on going like nothing happened, even if my family cried over it. Doing something like that wouldn't make anyone notice me."

"So you want to be noticed." He smirks – she has finally given him something to use, to lead him to an answer.

"More like... I don't want to be forgotten." Megumi outstretches her fingers, long and pale as they are, and reaches into the wind like she is trying to grasp something invisible. "What will the world remember about a girl who jumps to her death? I probably wouldn't even make it to the evening news. And if I did, it would be forgotten tomorrow morning anyways, when something more gruesome happens."

It is surprisingly a little more dull than Izaya had expected. He stares at her from the side, the expression of melancholy on her face. The worries she has are just like any other person who thinks about death. But no matter how much she concerns herself with it, it won't change the fact. True, no one will remember her in the end. She is just an ordinary human, someone who won't be able to make a lasting mark on history. No one will ever know that she lived. That is how it goes for most.

But then she says something that is a little out of the ordinary. "I wonder how I could die that would make him remember."

"Him?" Izaya repeats, finally beginning to understand what it is that keeps her from jumping – what keeps her at this hospital. "It isn't that you don't want to be forgotten by the world – but you want to be remembered by a particular person. A person that doesn't even notice you." It is an easy guess, judging from how she speaks about this mystery guy.

Although, to some degree, Izaya has to admit his own disappointment. Love? That is what ties her to the world? He supposes that it is one of the more unpredictable emotions that rule human nature, not governed by reason and therefore as dangerous as the brute Shizuo Heiwajima. But even that monster is ruled, to some degree, by that emotion. Love? Izaya does not entirely understand it. Perhaps he does not wish to.

"An anticlimactic answer for you?" Now she is the one reading him like a book. His disappointment shows visibly on his face, however. She grins at him. "For a person who has only accomplished bad things and led a life astray, it seems strange for them to fall into the same pattern as normal people. Does that make me normal?"

His curiosity is piqued again – and she has probably done it intentionally – at the mention of "bad things" and "life astray." But he does not answer her question, perhaps because, for once, he does not have an answer. What is normal by his definition? Probably the predictable people who lead their lives like a prewritten text, never deviating from the norm. They live by the book, always and forever.

But Megumi is not quite like that. She questions things just as he does. Yet, unlike him, she considers herself to be human experiencing the emotions of normal people. In that way he cannot quite relate. Perhaps Izaya Orihara is the true oddity.

"Could you give me any profound wisdom of yours, Orihara-kun?" She tilts her head at him, a gentle and warm smile on her lips. "I wouldn't mind some advice in regard to my unrequited love."

"One of the doctors?" he presumes, going off the basis that she strays away from her room frequently during visiting hours. This is the second occasion that he has noticed her wandering away from it, probably to avoid the suffocation brought by worrisome, doting relatives.

"Wow, you're perceptive," she commends him.

Izaya raises his brows questioningly as she leans toward him. She is shivering from the cold, and yet despite the quiet chattering of her teeth, she does not seem at all inclined to leave. He, perhaps, thinks to comment on it, but they are interrupted when the door to the rooftop opens.

The person that emerges is dressed in a white coat, and the moment he spots Megumi, he strides over to the two of them. "Megumi-san, you need to return to your room immediately. You are not dressed properly to be out in the cold. Your parents were looking for you-"

As Izaya notices out of the corner of his eye, her face nearly lights up at the sight of the man. He is, no doubt, her unrequited love. A six foot tall, dark-haired man with a deep voice that no doubt has the nurses in a tizzy as well. By a woman's definition, he is probably fairly handsome. But Izaya is not one to judge the attractiveness of others.

Megumi stands onto her trembling feet to meet the doctor as he approaches. "Sorry, sorry. It's my fault, I got caught up bird watching." There she goes again – lying about watching the birds. The first comment that ever stole Izaya's interest. "But it seems like they have all flown away. I can go inside now." Before they leave, she turns to give a slight inclination of the head toward Izaya. A silent goodbye, for neither knows if and when they will ever meet again.


	2. and when she spins they can't look away

**chapter two ; and when she spins they can't look away**

"Excuse me."

It is about the time he comes down from the rooftop, shortly after Megumi leaves with her love doctor – as he so humorously dubs the man – that someone stops him in the middle of the hallway. It is a homely, freckle-faced girl who appears to be just a few years older than he is. He grants her an appraising look, as though measuring her value. "Hm?"

She hesitates. "You were on the rooftop with Megumi-chan a couple of minutes ago, weren't you?"

Apparently it is one of Megumi's relatives, considering the casual attire. Perhaps a friend. More like, judging by the similarity in appearance, though Megumi certainly looks much more attractive, they are siblings. "Ah, you must be her sister."

"Did she say that?" The woman lifts her brows in surprise.

"Hm, maybe not," Izaya answers vaguely.

Instead of pressing him to answer, she disregards it. "Is this your first time meeting her? I know we're strangers and I'm sorry to stop you. You probably have somewhere more important to be, but I just wanted to know..."

"First time meeting? No. But we're not friends, either." He smiles pleasantly, although this more or less just seems a good situation to press for some information on Megumi. Still, Izaya does not go out of his way to question the woman. She seems more than willing to offer up information, however subtle and unknowing as she does so.

"That's good." The woman sighs in relief and her shoulders slump at ease. "I just thought I should warn you in advance. Megumi-chan isn't a bad person, but you should stay away from her. For your own good. Ah – I should be going. Please have a good day." Without offering up her own name or any further explanation, the woman bows and sets off.

What she leaves Izaya with is nothing short of an even greater, nagging curiosity. Better for him if he stays away from her? He cannot be more intrigued by this. And while he leaves without trying to pry more information, Izaya has no intention of following the advice of Megumi's sister.

When he returns late to the office that evening, he is greeted once again by a bitter Namie – this time without the coffee for him to attribute her disgusted expression. "Something eating at you?" he asks with biting sarcasm.

"Where have you been going that you spend so much time?" Namie asks the question as though she really wants to know, but she is more or less emphasizing the fact that he has hardly been at the office at all lately. "Trolling around Ikebukuro again?" It seems like she is fond of calling his information gathering "trolling," because for whatever reason, she thinks that he does not have other people's best interest at heart. That, for some reason, she thinks he delights in the misery of others.

"I won't deny that I was in Ikebukuro," he tells her honestly as he strides over to his computer, plopping down in his chair. That grin of his stretches almost from ear to ear. "I was actually in the hospital. A charitable donation of my time."

She grunts skeptically as she takes a sheaf of papers over to his desk and slams them down in front of him. "I sorted all this while you were gone. Since I finished early, I'm going to be leaving. And you should stay away from the hospital. The sick and injured should at least have some reprieve from the likes of you." There is a frown on her face as she turns on her heel to pack her things.

"And what makes you think I have bad intentions while I'm there, Namie-san? Don't you think I could potentially be the one at a disadvantage in such a place?"

Namie does not even humor those questions with a response. She packs up her things and leaves hastily, promptly slamming the door as soon as she exits. Perhaps it is because, as a doctor herself, she does not approve of his newfound interest in the hospital. Not that Namie is at all aware of what it is there that has managed to intrigue him.

For the next several days, he preoccupies himself with work, barely allowing a single thought to linger on Megumi. As interesting as she proves herself to be, he also has his own goals to work toward. A scheme that she does not fit into. Being a patient does not make her a viable piece for his plans. So he does not visit the hospital again for a little over half a week.

When next he deems it worth his time to go toward the hospital, it is a dreary day. The raining is pouring ceaselessly and Izaya can only be gleeful that he has managed to procure an umbrella from an unwilling Namie. In his usual way, he skips down the sidewalk with a devious smirk on his face. A brief encounter with Shizuo, which involves the usual tossing of vending machines and being chased with a traffic sign, leads Izaya to taking a roundabout way to the hospital. All of the detours cause him to arrive late – late enough that visiting hours are well over. And he assumes that it will probably be impossible to even see Megumi, who only seems to leave her room during aforementioned hours.

Yet, strangely, in the water scattering itself across Ikebukuro, she stands at the hospital entrance in her gown. She is drenched and several people who pass her by grant her curious and disproving glances. Megumi, strangely, looks forlorn as she stands there. A solitary figure with a sadness in those granite eyes of hers that can only be conveyed by the tears that are pouring down her cheeks.

Are they tears or just rain water? Even Izaya does not know. He approaches her tentatively, if only because he is curious as to what she is doing there. Part of him wants to observe her, but the other part of him – of which his intentions he is unsure of – ends up winning, because he wanders close enough to hold his umbrella over her head.

"Were you hoping to catch a cold to garner some sympathy?" he asks her. It is supposed to be a jabbing remark but she does not seem to be amused by it. Those eyes of hers, unfocused and distant, just turn to look at him with a loneliness that almost prompts him to take a step away from her.

"Orihara-kun," she croaks out in a cracked voice. "Is the rain cold? It seems like I can't feel it..."

He lifts his brows. "So you've been standing out here for a while. How strange. No one even came to get you."

"Right. I should go back in." Her lashes flutter for a moment as she turns toward the doors. As pallid as her face looks, Izaya wonders if she'll collapse before she even makes it. But barefooted as she is, Megumi keeps up her pace with him without faltering for even a moment.

Water drips down the length of her body as they walk across the laminate tiles, leaving behind small, liquid footprints. She sways from side to side with the movement and in silence, the two of them head to where Izaya assumes her room is. Yet a sudden detour takes them to the stairs leading up to the rooftop, their usual meeting spot.

"Ah? You intend to go up there in your condition?"

Instead, she takes a seat on one of the stairs and leans against the wall. Her breathing has grown shallow as she places a hand over her chest. "That wouldn't be a good idea, would it? That's fine, Orihara-kun. We can talk here."

"Hm, are you going to offer to explain why you were out in the rain? Or shall I start guessing?"

She eyes him contemplatively. "I was... bird watching." A grin lifts at the edges of her lips. Somehow, she seems to understand that he is itching to know the truth about her – to find out just what it is that lies beneath all those layers, the walls she has built up. Megumi is a guarded person and for every inch he wants to move closer, she wants to take several steps back.

"You sneaked out?" he presumes. "Following after that love doctor of yours? Were you hoping to catch hold of him?"

As he poses these questions, her grasp on the front of her shirt tightens as he leans forward, face contorting in anguish. She seethes out in a barely audible voice, "Nurse..." But although she appears to be in pain, Izaya does not flinch.

"Ah? What was that? I couldn't hear you, Megumi-chan~"

Rather than repeat herself, she works her way back to her feet and stumbles down the secluded hallway. Izaya follows after her, holding his folded-up umbrella by his side. It leaves a water trail behind as he pursues Megumi's unsteady figure. She eventually stumbles into a nurse who is attempting to pass by. The woman is promptly knocked to the ground, along with Megumi – who lands squarely on her face.

"He...lp..." Megumi mumbles out.

The nurse hurries to her feet and yells for assistance as she helps Megumi to her feet. Neither of them bothers to cast a glance back at Izaya, who lingers at a far enough distance to avoid getting involved, yet close enough to observe the situation. Perhaps it is his own apathy that keeps him from helping, but more likely it is because he is eager to understand Megumi. And even if her life is in danger, he intends only to observe.

Eventually a stretcher comes and she is rushed away to the emergency room where he cannot follow. So Izaya wanders over to the desk to inquire – and, of course, he is met with the most predictable of questions. "Are you immediate family?"

"Yes," he lies without skipping a beat.

The woman studies him hard, but she is none the wiser about his relation to the woman who was just rushed in. "She's still waiting on a heart transplant. The doctor should have told you this, but if she doesn't get one soon..."

Ah, a terminal patient. Not that he has not suspected as much, but Izaya feels strangely uneasy hearing it. As an information broker, he naturally has no experience nor power in an environment where heart donations are so rare that most go without until the end.

He frowns to himself as he looks down at his own chest. Strange how his heart works automatically without a single problem and yet Megumi – who seems to compulsively explain all of her actions as "bird watching" – will lose her life because of a heart that refuses to function properly. It seems... unfair, when he thinks about all of those girls who so willingly throw themselves off of buildings because of their own "hardships."

And maybe he entertains the idea that Megumi is not as predictable as he originally passed her off as. Nonetheless, Izaya does not linger to hear any news about her condition. He heads straight toward the door to leave, lifting his umbrella back over his head. This time as he leaves, it is with a nagging feeling that he may never end up seeing her again. And maybe that thought bothers him more than it should.

Even as he heads back to his office in Shinjuku, Izaya feels strangely uneasy. He does not skip along as he usually does. Nor does he bother, when he spots Namie glaring at him from her seat on the couch, to take a sarcastic jab at her. Instead, he settles down at his computer and logs into his usual chat rooms. It proves to be only a meager distraction.

"What is it?" Namie snaps at him impatiently as she sets another stack of papers on his desk. "It looks like you're the one who ended up being trolled. Not that I miss your usual snide remarks, or your needless skipping through the office, or your usual twirling in your chair... Nor do I miss-"

"So you really do miss it, Namie-san." He grins at her.

"I digress. That look on your face is more annoying than usual." It seems, in her own way, she cares. Although she probably feels some measure of satisfaction at seeing him chagrined so deeply about something.

"You're a doctor, Namie-san... A person waiting on a heart transplant... They'll run out of time, won't they?" Although he asks the question, he does not look the least bit disturbed by the morbidity of it. It does not seem to faze him that he is talking about death. In fact, if anything, it seems to intrigue him.

She sighs at him as though she suddenly understands. "So you've been trolling a patient with a bad heart."

"Trolling? How mean~"

"Rather than asking me those kind of pointless questions – and yes, they will run out of time – you should stay away from the hospital from now on." She turns on her heel and goes back to her laptop, as though she is pretending that she is not the initiator of their conversation.

He tilts his head to the side. "Coincidentally, Namie-san, you are not the first person to say that. It seems pretty predictable. Stay away from the terminal patients because they are going to die soon. Isn't that too selfish?"

"I'm not saying it for your sake," she shoots back. "How do you think a person dying feels when they have to look at all they're leaving behind? It's different from those suicide victims of yours. People waiting for a transplant still have hope, they're fighting to live."

For once, Izaya is the one left without anything to say. Not that he cannot think up some sly remark to sling back, but what she says gives him some pause as he thinks about Megumi. That love doctor of hers that she is chasing after that does not reciprocate her feelings... When he first talked to her, she was worried about being remembered or not. And he is starting to think that, even if he tries, he won't be able to forget her.

Regardless, he tires of letting his thoughts linger on something pointless and unproductive. So he jets out of his seat and heads toward the door, hands stuffed into his coat. In his boredom, he decides he will participate in one of his favorite past-times; making Shizuo's life hell. Playing with that protozoan should prove to be somewhat entertaining.

"I'm headed back to 'bukuro. See you tomorrow, bright and early, Namie-san!" He gives a wave to her without looking back, then slams the door shut.

As the following days pass, he bides his time. Every time Namie sets the newspaper on his desk, his eyes seek the obituaries subconsciously. And yet, for as preoccupied as his mind seems to be with the thought that Megumi might already be dead, he does not even chance passing by the hospital. Deliberately, he avoids it.

He takes delight in his encounters with Shizuo, for once, because they waste his time. He runs gleefully away as Shizuo gives chase. Effortlessly, the brute leaps through the traffic lights and shrugs off the cars that slam into him. There are cuts and scrapes all over the blond-haired beast, but he just keeps going. All his eyes see are red – Izaya.

Their usual game of cat and mouse keeps Izaya entertained. And when he isn't doing that, he is chatting amiably with girls in the suicide chat room. Lure them in – no longer because he wants to observe them, but because he feel some bitterness toward them. A feeling that is unnatural for him, that he cannot quite identify.

Then, on the forth day after his last encounter with Megumi, he gets a text message. Without stopping to think, he opens it – it's from Saki. _"A patient here has been asking after you. I haven't told her anything."_

Although – he is sure – it is probably Megumi, he writes back asking for a description of the inquirer. When he gets a response from Saki, it details the features of Megumi as he remembers them perfectly. Her dark brown hair, like the mane of a proud lion, and those calculating gray eyes of hers, stony as the walls she surrounds herself with. And a small part of him wonders why she would seek him. Yet, all he tells Saki is not to say anything.

There is a strangely forlorn expression on his face as he types that message. And inwardly, he is probably debating whether or not to visit the hospital. There is a strange desire to do so but a nagging voice in the back of his head that tries to convince him otherwise.

"You haven't gone back to the hospital, have you?" Namie has also been trying to keep tabs on him, trying her damnedest to convince him to keep away from there. For every effort she expends trying to convince him not to go, he feels more eager to defy her.

And Izaya revels in the irony of his own rebellious nature. So, in the end, when she asks, he hops off his chair and starts toward the door, stuffing his phone in his pocket. "Not yet~" he tells her in a sing-song voice. "But since you were so kind to mention it, Namie-san, I'll go pay my respects. Bye-bye~"

Before he can hear her, no doubt cursing him down for his defiance, the door slams and he is down the street in a fast enough skip that even if she tries to run after him – and she won't – there is no possibility of catching up to him.

It is strangely sunny out, different from the last time he encountered Megumi. And likewise, when he strolls up to the front of the hospital, he does not see her standing outside. With long strides, he arrives inside and then he heads straight toward their usual meeting place. There is a strange smirk on his face as he goes, climbing up the stairs to the rooftop door.

As he whisks it open, sunlight pours blindingly into his face. He shields his eyes with his hand, and amidst the amber rays, he spots a silhouette. Her hair is whipping through the wind as she turns to see who it is. Like the time before, she is standing at the railing – bird watching, she will claim, like she always does.

"Orihara-kun?" His name rolls off her tongue smoothly, like a siren's voice beckoning him.

Strange how his legs seem to move forward at the sound of it. "Ah, Megumi-chan, avoiding your family again?" It is visiting hours, after all – that's why he knew she would be up here. Regardless of how mysterious she tries to be in front of him, she is still as predictable as any other human. And yet, he finds himself interested despite the monotony in her routine.

"They have been here almost every day," she says with a weary sigh. Those gray eyes of hers turn back out to peer down at the people below, little more than ants from this height. "So I came out here for some fresh air."

"Or to jump?" he prompts.

"Maybe to bird watch."

"Or to people watch," Izaya offers.

She glances at him side-long. "You can pick whatever one you think is more interesting, but I thought if I came up here you might stop by. Did asking around the hospital work? I told you I was pretty sly." There is a ghost of a smile on her lips, that have grown strangely pale. And he notices that she seems to have lost some weight – strange, since it has only been a few days since he saw her last.

"Ah, is that what you refer to as sly?" His brows lift as he settles against the railing beside her. They stand shoulder to shoulder, peering down at the people. And after Izaya's question, they are left only to an amicable silence. There seems to be a mutual understanding between the two of them.

Yet the stillness is disrupted when Megumi draws a deep breath before turning to Izaya. "Actually, that's not the extent of my cunning. There's a reason I asked around for you."

"Oh?"

There is still a smile on her lips as she elaborates. "Well, you might have figured it out a long time ago, but at the very least you should be aware by now about my heart condition. I am supposed to be waiting for a transplant. You probably understand what that means, right?"

"Ah, contemplating your death now, Megumi-chan?" He doesn't look over as he asks – it isn't a question, it is his understanding of the situation. Judging from the grim way she speaks, it is no doubt that she is treating this as the end.

"Contemplation?" She lets out a strangled laugh. "Ah, I guess that's what this is. You understand. Attacks like that have been happening more frequently. And although there's a possibility, the likelihood of a transplant coming up in the near future is too low to put faith into."

"Giving up?"

For a moment, Megumi purses her lips and she faces forward, averting her eyes from Izaya. "That's a blunt way of putting it."

"Should I embellish the truth for you to make it seem like a lovely lie?" As Izaya asks, he thinks about her own lie – bird watching. It is the same thing. The way she dangles the truth in front of him, coated so thickly in falsities that he cannot be sure what is real and what is not.

"A lovely lie? I think I would like that." Her lips crease for a moment but fall back into a straight line shortly thereafter. "I will think of my life that way. A ballerina that spins around on a stage to beautiful classical music. She looks like a swan up there and people can't take their eyes off of her. Her parents are rich but caring. That's where she got her looks from – so, naturally, she is beautiful."

"Too far from the truth to be believable," he criticizes as he grasps the railing with both hands and leans forward.

Megumi puckers her lips in thought. "Not dramatic enough, huh? Hm. I should think up a better story, then."

"How about..." Izaya leans toward her until his lips are just inches from the shell of her ear, warm breath buffeting against it. "...You tell the ugly truth instead? Or do you think it will make you feel better to decorate your life with lies so it looks beautiful on the outside?"

"No one is going to remember the girl who was born with a heart defect, who struggled through school and came out a wreck, doing drugs to escape the idea that she would not live to be twenty-five. A girl who ultimately quickened her own death through illegal substances."

"Ah, now that's more interesting."

Megumi shirks away from the feeling of his breath against her skin and her cheeks flush. "Whatever I tell you, whether it is true or not, will be forgotten eventually. So I'm not concerned about dressing up my history in front of you. Once I'm gone, you won't think about the girl on the roof of the hospital who claims to be bird watching."

He does not contest that. Although he does deem her real past far more intriguing than the ludicrous story she was trying to play up.

"The reason why I am cunning is because..." and she turns to him, those eyes of hers staring into him with the same loneliness as before, "... I want to selfishly ask you to do me a favor. To take me away from this hospital. It probably isn't something you want to get involved in, but I want you to take me somewhere else. If I'm going to die, I don't want to be surrounded by people crying and white curtains, sterile bedsheets, strangers in coats with frowning faces... None of that."

Not that he is inclined to agree to her demands, but Izaya finds himself curious nonetheless. "Ah? And then where would you want to go, Megumi-chan? Some place romantic? Some place far-off?"

"Bird watching." And she smiles as she lies to him again.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> Thank you kindly for the reviews! Hopefully this chapter did not disappoint - development may (or may not) have been a little rushed since this is only a three chapter story. I have never really been good with short stories so this was my first respectable attempt. :) Would love some feedback, hope you enjoyed! Last chapter will be posted in a week.


	3. when she falls their tears go with her

**chapter three ; so when she falls their tears go with her**

"I thought I told you not to go to the hospital," Namie tells him tersely, "And I certainly had no expectation of you bringing back a patient with you. Especially not a heart patient that-"

"Ah, Namie-san, you have no sense of compassion, do you?" Although that question seems strangely hypocritical coming from his mouth. Nonetheless, Izaya strides past the glaring secretary to go over to his computer. And left in his wake is Megumi, who seem to be studying Namie with some faint degree of interest.

"Are you his..."

"No," the brown-haired woman growls out. "I am his secretary."

Despite being in the cover of Izaya's office, Megumi is still dressed in her hospital gown – and being out on the streets in such attire seems to attract attention. So, although she has not been properly introduced, Megumi bows her head toward Namie. "Well, it is a pleasure to meet you, then. I am... Ah, that's right. Takano. I am Megumi Takano."

"That sounds like a lie," Namie tells her blatantly with the twitch of an eyebrow. She breathes a sigh to herself, muttering under her breath. No doubt that she is livid with Izaya, although her anger seems to be directed toward Megumi.

"Well, I already know your name, so it's fine you don't want to introduce yourself, Namie-san." Megumi smiles pleasantly at her, which renders Namie a little defenseless despite however much she disapproves of all of this. "Orihara-kun said that I might be able to ask you for a change of clothes. Do you mind? Traipsing about the city in this gown – beautiful as it is, I know the color is in fashion about this time of year – is not really my idea of keeping a low profile."

"The police are going to be all over this," Namie warns as she glances briefly back at Izaya.

He does not dignify that with a response, but fortunately, Megumi offers to give Namie some assurance. "I left a note behind to explain that I was leaving. Don't worry, they shouldn't do anything rash. Well, I can't give any guarantees about my sister. She always has been a little overprotective."

And Namie has half a mind to call this madness, stupidity, and every other word in the book that she can think of to insult the idea of bringing Megumi out of the hospital... Yet there is a small part of Namie that understands where the girl is coming from. Dying in a stuffy old room that is not your own is not what many people think of as the ideal way to go. But maybe it is because Namie, herself, is a doctor, that she wants to encourage Megumi to hold onto the hope that, even if her days are numbered, a transplant could still come. Against her better judgment, she does not push the subject.

"I'll try not to comment on the idiocy of this anymore. Yes, I have a change of clothes."

While the two women go off, Izaya returns to his usual activities, typing away at his keyboard in the various chat rooms that he takes part in. After Namie assists Megumi in getting changed – into a long-sleeved, green blouse and black leggings – the two return. In the days that follow, where Megumi seems to be in fairly good health, she insists on helping Namie with her secretarial work. Surprisingly, Megumi proves to be of some assistance.

And while Namie is still convinced that this entire idea is foolhardy, everything seems to be normal. Izaya is being his usual self, leaving occasionally to troll either Ikebukuro or Shinjuku. He continues his usual antics; devising plans, collecting information and selling it for his own benefit and amusement. In fact, even Namie comes to appreciate how quickly Megumi seems to fall into the pace of their monotonous routine.

For at least three days after her arrival, Megumi shows no signs of being anything other than an ordinary girl. She is twenty years-old, as it turns out, though she chooses only to confide that to Namie. And Namie finds herself becoming like an oddly doting mother, glancing up from her laptop more than occasionally to see where the girl is or has wandered off to.

There are a few occasions when she disappears and Izaya is out. So Namie wanders around calling out her name, bitter about feeling like a babysitter and nevertheless relishing in the feeling. And when she finds Megumi nowhere in the office, Namie hikes up to the rooftop to discover that it seems to be Megumi's hideaway.

"What are you doing up here?" Namie asks.

And Megumi smiles back at her while saying, "Bird watching."

Yet the way she stands on the edge, as though debating whether or not to jump, tells Namie that the whole bird watching spiel is nothing more than a cover-up. Still, she does not bother to address the front that Megumi puts up.

Especially because, by the forth day, Megumi is beginning to grow pale. In the midst of helping Namie sort out the paperwork, she pauses frequently for breathers, clutching at her chest. When Namie makes a remark about it, Megumi assures her that a little chest pain is inevitable.

Namie knows betters – knows that it means an attack is coming soon.

By the fifth day, things have worsened drastically and for the most part, Megumi spends her time sprawled across the couch. And while her face shows no signs that she is in agony, her hand is always hovering over her heart, clutching at the blouse that Namie has lent her.

True to Megumi's words, her family has not made any move to contact the police about her disappearance from the hospital. Yet, according to Izaya who frequents Ikebukuro more than usual, they have been looking around for her. The news does not seem to faze Megumi, who remains insistent that she will not go back to the hospital.

And when the sixth day comes and Namie arrives at the office in the wee hours of the morning, neither Megumi nor Izaya are anywhere to be found. Instead, there is a note left on the coffee table that is addressed to Namie.

_I am going out bird watching with Orihara-kun. See you later, Namie-san!_

Although her name is signed at the bottom, there is something about Megumi's note that makes Namie believe that all of it is a lie. They aren't really going birdwatching and she probably won't see Megumi again.

—

"The way you are going, Megumi-chan, you may not make it off the train."

True enough that, even as she gazes out at the scenery, Megumi is clutching her chest tightly. Perspiration is almost pouring down the length of her face as she takes short, shallow breaths. Still, Megumi has enough strength to smile as she says, "I'll be fine." Her lies are beginning to be less and less convincing. "I just want to go bird watching one more time."

Though he is not sure just how many birds – aside from seagulls, he supposes – that they will see by going to the beach. Especially not at this time of year, when spring is on the horizon but far enough away that the weather keeps the sandy shore fairly deserted. But at least it is not snowing outside.

Still, sitting adjacent from her, Izaya can make out the strain in Megumi's face as she sits there. Eventually, during the course of the trip, the gray-eyed girl leans her head against the window and drifts off. It is only at that point that he sees the true extent of her exhaustion, her face riddled with a noticeable lack of sleep. To Izaya, it is also quite obvious that the days she has spent away from her family and the hospital have really worn on her.

And he wonders to himself why he bothers with all of this – but maybe he is compelled by curiosity. True that he has seen people die before. Death is not something unusual. He has watched someone plummet over the edge willingly. Megumi, however, is a person standing on that edge, trying to balance to keep from falling, even though she cannot step away from that precipice.

He cannot say entirely what it is that drew him in from the beginning. Her blatant lies, the way she fiddles with the truth, or her general nature that seems to be a borderline between predictable and lacking all reason. Maybe, for that reason, she is neither someone he will remember nor someone he can forget. Perhaps she will always linger between the two – always at the back of his mind.

When the train finally reaches their stop, he nudges her knee with his foot. "Megumi-chan~"

Though heavy with sleep – and perhaps with the death that is fast approaching – her eyelashes flutter as she stirs. "Ah, are we here?" She struggles but manages to get up onto her feet and the two of them file out of the train together, barely in time, as the door almost shuts on them.

It is a short walk to the beach, but one that seems to be agonizingly slow. Izaya finds himself walking backward, purely out of boredom, keeping an eye on Megumi who struggles to make it all the way. The pain in her chest must be unbearable because she is covered in sweat and panting the whole time.

But the moment they hit the sand, she kicks off her shoes and heads straight into the path of the waves. The salty water licks at her feet and wriggles in between her toes. She shivers from the cold, because it is surely freezing. Yet there is a smile on her face despite her exhaustion.

"So, Megumi-chan, why the beach, of all places?" Though he suppose it is the most cliché place to want to die. Everyone seems so enthralled by the ocean. Such captivation is lost on him, since he prefers the commotion of the big city, where large crowds give way to more interesting observations. "Don't tell me the love doctor brought you here once, or that-"

"Bird watching," she tells him again after a sharp inhale. "I told you before, I wanted to watch the birds."

And he is beginning to wonder if he is ever going to get a straight answer out of her. Yet, Izaya supposes, there is little more that he can expect to extract from Megumi aside from her lies. If there is anything wrong with her, it is the way she compulsively spits them out as though it comes second nature to her. She does not seem to delight in revealing the truth.

"Aha, Orihara-kun, you seem to look annoyed every time I say that." She steps away from the water and plops down in the sand, crossing her legs. Megumi cocks her head back to look at him, still smiling regardless of how tired she must be. "Would you rather the truth? I told you before that it isn't as exciting."

He begs to differ. "Since you lie so much, doesn't that reveal some complex of yours? Feelings of inadequacy?" For as much as she runs away from the truth, she cannot cover even her tracks in lies.

"Or maybe I want to keep you guessing. What is the real me and what is fabricated?" Once again, she is trying to deny him the satisfaction of a solid answer. "Wouldn't it make you curious if I told you it was a lie that I had any feelings for that doctor?"

"No, because _that_ would be lying." She can try to confuse him as much as she likes, Izaya remembers clearly the expression on her face when the doctor came looking for her. No lies can disguise the feelings that were all too obvious to begin with.

She leans backward until she falls against her back, splayed out across the sandy beach. The yellow grains mingle in her long, dark hair. And those granite eyes of hers look up at him as he trails over toward her. "Maybe it's not a lie anymore."

"Heh... You're a fickle one, Megumi-chan." He says that offhandedly as he slips his fingers into his pocket, producing his cell phone. And while he fully intends to check the new text message that he has just been sent, he notices a blur of movement out of the corner of his eye. Izaya is quick enough that he could move away in time, but he does not bother to dodge Megumi's lunge.

She manages to pry the cell phone out of his hand. As soon as she has it, she darts across the sand and into the way of the waves, which gently push against the back of her calves. "Hey, if you don't want me to drop it in the water, come out here. You always seem so disinterested, Orihara-kun. Pretend it's interesting."

He sighs to himself. Playing along with her antics is solely for the purpose of observing her – seeing what action she will take next. She fails to surprise him, and despite that, Izaya continues to cater to her whims. Except this time. "I'm only here to watch," he shrugs at her, "If you really want to throw my cell phone because I won't join you, then do it." Izaya says that not because he has no regard for the fate of his cell phone, but because he knows that Megumi's aim is to elicit a reaction from him. So he does not grant her the pleasure of getting one out of him.

"Really? You don't care?" she tests.

And he is certain that she'll give up. "If it will make you feel better, then throw it~"

Laughter tears through her throat as she chucks it into the distance, much to Izaya's chagrin. "Well, since you said you don't mind. I really do feel better now that I got rid of it." She turns back around to face him with a lofty grin. "Now you'll watch birds with me, won't you?"

He sighs. She _really _did throw his cell phone. Maybe – and he only grants her this because he does not want to admit his own lack of foresight – she isn't as predictable as he first thought. "Bird watching, was it?" Rather than chance the waves as she hopes he will, Izaya pulls his coat tighter around himself. The fur tickles against the base of his chin and yet his skin is still alight in goosebumps.

It makes him feel... almost human.

"Ah, such a spoil sport. You won't go if I don't come and get you?" Hair fluttering behind her, she traipses back over toward him and loops her arm around his. And although he is steadfast at first in refusing to be pulled along, she manages to coerce him into stumbling out into the waves.

Begrudgingly, he stands with her, until the water pours into his shoes. Izaya's brow twitches because, unlike Megumi, he does not like this feeling. The slosh of it as it soaks into his socks and the cold as it washes over his feet.

"You still have that look on your face," she remarks.

And maybe it is not because of the water. Izaya isn't quite sure himself. The feeling of dread that he is entirely unused to – a feeling he often observes in others, that he _creates_ in others. Never before has he been plagued by it himself.

Megumi seems to notice this, too. "You seem like a real oddity, Orihara-kun. Your office and Namie-san – it wasn't what I had expected, asking to stay with you for a little while before my time came. And as strange as it may sound, it gave me a realization."

"Something life-shattering?" he remarks dully, not really interested.

"Hm, maybe... Something like that..."

Megumi's arm is still looped around his and so when she suddenly stumbles, she ends up falling into him. It's an abrupt move that sends the two of them tumbling to the ground, where she falls neatly on top of Izaya, who could not be more bitter about his now thoroughly-soaked fur-trimmed coat.

She struggles to work her way up onto her haunches and off of him, but it is a fruitless attempt. Her hand finds its way to her chest as she curls against him in pain, gritting her teeth as her face contorts. The impending attack that she knew was coming has finally started.

Rather than burden the air with words, Izaya just silently watches her, lifted up onto his elbows. Tears form in her eyes as she clenches her jaw. He sees as it visibly tightens. All of it – he observes it. Because he cannot help even if he wants to. He knows just as well as she does that this is the end of the line.

And yet, in a vain attempt, she manages to speak some words. "In the end... I'm only human..." She manages to lift her head just enough to smile up at him weakly. What she says – it is just Megumi speaking the obvious, or so he thinks at first. But maybe there is something more profound within. A realization that no matter how strong one tries to be, they cannot change the fact that they have something in common with every other living thing – a bond that holds all people together. Life is what they share, however much inequality riddles it.

In his curiosity, stone-faced as he watches her, Izaya lifts a hand, slick with the salty water it has been submerged in, and presses it against her cheek. She is pale and trembling. It is a sight that defies everything he has seen before – girls who are goaded under the pressure of his taunts to throw their lives away. They look peaceful, almost serene as they begrudge the world, falling to their end. The plummet and the sound of it ending. He has seen – has heard all of that.

Nothing like this. It captivates him, arouses his interest – to see someone fighting against the course of life that they have been given. And maybe he was wrong when he assumed that by doing all of this, Megumi was giving up. This is not what surrender looks like.

So, in repayment for what he has learned from this observation, he burns the image of her into his mind. He keeps his eyes open, barely blinking, just watching her. Until she takes one last shallow breath and her eyes flutter for a moment. Still open, they turn glassy as her body goes rigid and she collapses into his chest.

Suddenly all he can hear is the sound of his own breathing and the waves licking at the shore, gently rising and then falling. And for a little while, despite how half-frozen he thinks that he is, he sits there with her lying motionlessly on top of him.

—

"You're not going to her funeral?"

"Are you, Namie-san?" he shoots back from his position, sitting in front of the computer. His hands have been hovering over the keyboard for some time, but he has not managed to type a single message. Even in all the chat rooms he is apart of – and people keep addressing him – he does not bother to respond to them. His mind is elsewhere. Has been elsewhere for some time.

The brown-eyed secretary glances down at her laptop and promptly shuts it, leaving it on the coffee table as she stands up. "It's only right for a person to pay their respects to the deceased." She says that as though she does not think that Izaya has enough decency to do it. "I'm leaving now to get ready. I'll be back later to continue my work." And yet as she leaves, Namie pauses briefly at the door to glance back at him, as though she expects him to get up from his chair at any moment and announce that he is going as well.

"Have fun, Namie-san~"

She frowns at him. "What happened to your cell phone?"

"Ah, that?" He pauses for a moment then grins. "Seems like I must have lost it. I wonder if a little bird carried it off somewhere?"

Namie huffs, muttering something beneath her breath about him being a weirdo creep before she leaves, slamming the door behind her.

Left to the silence, Izaya tries to resume his usual routine. It is an effort that proves ultimately futile. Nothing is progressing in his chat rooms, nothing new to occupy his time. Eventually, he abandons the endeavor and shuts off his machine. Then he takes his fur-lined coat – dry-cleaned after its last adventure – and heads out the door.

As he meanders, he entertains the thought of going to the funeral, after all. But he thinks about all those people who will be crying. The tear-filled look on the face of Megumi's sister, all of the mourning that he is not sure he can stomach. As interesting of a place as it might be to observe, there is something in him that purposefully wants to avoid it.

Plus, he thinks a framed picture of her could never quite compare to the real thing. The mysterious smile and her way with weaving words into a clumsy lie. So instead of going to the funeral, he heads to the hospital. Passes by all of the white-gowned patients, many of which in the courtyard are being visited by their loved ones. He even passes by the love doctor, who seems to have dark circles beneath his eyes. But Izaya does not give pause to observe the gray-shaded, uninteresting inhabitants of the hospital. He heads straight to the staircase.

Step by step until he is at the top. And part of him half-expects to see her silhouette standing in front of the blinding rays of the morning sun as it mounts the horizon. Yet when he opens the door, a vast emptiness is all that greets him. Still, he makes his way to the railing, leaning up on it as he has seen Megumi do many times before. The wind whips across his face and he has to squint through it.

"Ah," he breathes out, feeling some vague sense of relief. "You really were planning to jump after all, weren't you, Megumi-chan?" From this vantage point, he can tell by looking at the ground below – people have definitely fallen from this height before, purposefully.

Izaya figures that, in her line of thinking, it probably would have been easier to jump and end it all instead of clinging to the hope of an eventual transplant. But something, apparently, had changed her mind. Whether it was his presence or something else – Izaya will never know the answers. There are many answers he will never know. And the fact that his curiosity remains insatiable because of her stubbornness to keep the truth from him – it makes her all the more unforgettable.

And when he returns back to the office, it is late into the night. Namie has already finished at the funeral and changed into her usual attire, a blouse that mirrors the one she had allowed Megumi to borrow just a week before. When he enters, she is typing away furiously on her laptop. But as soon as she notices that he is back, she pauses to glare at him.

"Where were you?"

He pauses for a moment and grins wryly. "Ah, I was bird watching."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>Thanks for the reviews, guys. I think I liked how this ended. It was short and simple, not over-the-top with sentimentality but hopefully touching enough that the message it held was conveyed properly. That life is important and it is something we all have in common, and how simple decisions can change the course of your life and others. (Such as Izaya's random decision to wander up to the rooftop one day.) Well, hopefully you enjoyed it. Thanks again!


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